


self loathing come superiority complex

by Bontaque



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Drugs, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bontaque/pseuds/Bontaque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor is twelve when he's diagnosed with ADHD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	self loathing come superiority complex

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so warnings for triggers surrounding depression and drug use, obviously.
> 
> This is really just an excuse for me to write about Trevor and write something about mental health that I hope is more relateable than worrying.
> 
> A possible back story for Trevor, because when people judge a character the way they would judge a real person, I want to remind them that every asshole has a reason for being an asshole.
> 
> I'd really love feedback on this, I debated whether or not to post it for nearly a day.

 Trevor's favourite thing about himself is how he can deny anything. Of course, he doesn't think about it in the cold light of day because denial runs deep but he is good at it. Even Mike, the person that knows him better than anyone, doesn't notice when something is bothering him. Or if he does, he doesn't say anything and that's how Trevor wants to keep it.

He's diagnosed with ADHD when he's twelve and nobody seems surprised. It explains his lack of concentration and his complete, all consuming boredom, according to his doctor. She's nice enough but he doesn't want to keep seeing her. They give him drugs and he doesn't see why he has to talk about things if they work as well as they're supposed to.

He's not sure if they do work. He feels like he's numb and cold. He can focus if he wants to, but he doesn't want to because his boredom isn't caused by any chemical imbalance in his brain. He's bored because everything is boring and everyone sucks so that's what he tells his doctor.

“That's not true, is it?” she asks. “There has to be something you enjoy.”

Trevor just shrugs. He can't be bothered to talk about it, just like he can't be bothered to like anything. He'd tried, he had, but it was too hard, so it was easier to just accept that he hated everything.

Two months later, he meets Mike. Well, he'd seen him around and everyone knew about the kid whose parents had been killed in a car crash, but he'd never spoken to him until they were paired up in Chemistry.

Mike is shy but there's a sharp wit about him that Trevor clings to. They joke their way through the first assignment but, with Mike's input, Trevor gets his first A. He's not stupid, not by a long shot. He knows he's actually kind of smart, but Dr. Mitchell tells him that his problem stems from having a lack of interest in fictional problems. She'd given him a test in their first appointment and Trevor hadn't really given a shit about it, but she'd left him alone and he'd been bored. He likes puzzles and he'd completed it by the time she returned.

He stops taking his medication after that, because it doesn't seem to do anything other than dull his thoughts and that just makes him feel even worse.

It doesn't take long for him and Mike to become inseparable. Neither of them have a lot of friends and they get along better than Trevor would have thought possible. They have a lot of classes together and they both like shitty movies and hanging out in Trevor's basement. Mike reads a lot (pretty much anything he can get his hands on, it seems) and Trevor spends a lot of his time just sitting around and not thinking if he can help it, but they have as much in common as two people need to become best friends.

Trevor's older brother gives him his first joint. It's after Trevor storms out of dinner after his mom's nagging gets to him. His brother finds him after, handing him the lighter and suggesting that maybe it'll help him unwind.

“Just don't tell mom, okay?” Will says. “Or anyone?”

“I wont,” Trevor says with a grin.

They share the joint and it's probably a good thing because Trevor assumes it's pretty strong. He's flying. He's fucking soaring and he can't stop smiling. Every shitty thing is just a little out of reach because at that moment, he isn't bored, probably clinically depressed Trevor. In that moment he's just high and enjoying it, lost in the thrill of it all.

It's like being on public transport and not having to deal with anything because you're in transit. It's like he can reach up and touch the stars, but he doesn't because his brother is right there and he wants to stay cool. It's better than the meds, much better and he doesn't see why medical marijuana isn't a bigger thing.

His brother rolls him another two joints and shows him where to hide them.

“Just don't go overboard and keep it for emergencies,” he says. “I'm not giving you more.”

Trevor agrees but the next day he brings Mike back from school and they light up in the basement before anyone comes home. Mike is worried about getting caught but there's a lock and Trevor knows for a fact it's where his brother smokes all the time.

He gets a bit of a thrill from the way Mike looks up to him, nervous and needing someone to show him how to take his first hit. Trevor lights the joint and takes a slow drag, careful not to show himself up.

Mike splutters and coughs, eyes tearing up. Trevor chuckles and takes another hit before giving him another chance. Mike learns quickly, like he does with everything and it's only a few days later when they get through the second joint.

Trevor likes smoking with Mike just as much as he had alone. He has fun and there's no niggling feeling in the back of his mind that something is wrong. He thinks about sneaking into his brother's room to find his stash, but he knows he wont get away with it so he sorts something else out instead.

Everyone in school knows that the kids behind the bike sheds sell pot, so Trevor takes a crumpled twenty to school the next day. He's nervous but he doesn't show it. He feels like they're going to laugh at him, but they'd only do that if they knew that he was nervous. He knows that faking it works most of the time, so he shoves his hands into his pockets and takes the plunge.

He gets high with Mike again at the weekend, for the whole weekend. They barely come down, spending hours in Mike's back garden, watching the clouds and barely speaking. When they do speak, it's about everything and nothing. Trevor does nothing but he feels invincible.

His next appointment with his doctor doesn't go well. She keeps asking him how he feels, which keeps reminding him that he's in fucking therapy and he doesn't want to speak to her. His fingers drum on his thighs because he's off his meds and he can't get high because she'll know and he just hates being him so much sometimes, it's fucking ridiculous.

It's like he saw how shit everything was and now he's stuck because he can't unsee it and almost everyone else is blissfully blind. He doesn't want to be one of those whiny assholes who keep dream journals and label themselves with a million different illnesses. He's not like that, he's fine most of the time when he just doesn't think about everything. He's not sad, he's not angry, he's not fucking depressed and he wishes everyone would stop asking him how he feels.

He just doesn't feel anything because there's nothing to feel. He can laugh and joke and have fun when he wants to but he just doesn't want to most of the time. It's just how he is. He's sarcastic and cynical and he's never going to be some happy-go-lucky chump.

“Trevor, are you happy right now?” Dr. Mitchell asks.

“Well no, who's happy when they're stuck in an office?” he replies dryly.

“I don't mean right now and you know that.”

Trevor shrugs because, no, he's not but he's not unhappy.

“I don't know... sure?”

“When was the last time you were happy?” she asks.

Trevor thinks. He thinks about the last weekend his parents went away and Mike stayed over and they drank the beers from the fridge and split a joint and they just sat around and existed. Like existing took up so much time and energy and it was great.

“Mike does seem to be good for you,” Dr. Mitchell says when he tells her.

She writes something down on that huge pad of hers which just irritates Trevor. He doesn't care, she can think what she likes but he's so curious.

“Yeah, he's pretty cool,” Trevor says. “He's just some dork from Chem but we've been hanging out.”

“Well, that's good, you haven't really spoken about your friends much.”

In truth, Trevor doesn't really do friends. He has people other than Mike who he talks to, but he doesn't want to be around them any more than he needs to be. He never hangs out with them, not unless he can see something in it for him.

Mike asks Trevor where he got to, because he wasn't answering his phone. Trevor shrugs him off and tells him not to be so clingy. There's a split second where Trevor worries he's upset him but then Mike laughs and asks if the basement is empty.

They light up and fall onto the couch. It's cold out and the wind is whistling through one of the old windows so Trevor doesn't say anything when Mike presses closer to him. He's warm and he smells familiar and it isn't anything weird. It's fine to feel comfortable around someone and Trevor knows it's stupid how social norms have fucked that up. Yeah, he knows about social norms. Sometimes he listens to Dr. Mitchell's talks about anxiety.

When Mike's lips find his, tentative at first, Trevor doesn't pull away. The contact is nice and he's not sure how it _makes him feel_ but he does know that he craves attention just as much as he tries to avoid it. Mike crawls into his lap as Trevor takes a deep drag from the joint and then he's kissing him again, pulling the smoke from his lungs and Trevor just groans.

“You are intelligent, you know,” Dr. Mitchell tells him in their next session.

Trevor just looks at the floor because what do you say to that?

“I know I'm not stupid or anything,” is what he comes up with.

“No, Trevor,” she says. “You're smart, you could do a lot with that. Have you put any thought into your future?”

Trevor doesn't like himself, not one bit, but he likes himself more than other people. He knows he has some twisted self loathing come superiority complex because he always thought he was pretty smart. He never really tried because he didn't want to but he knew he was better than most of the douche bags he shared a school with.

He was safe in the knowledge that he could do things if he wanted to. He didn't have to prove that to anyone. If he knew it, that was all that mattered.

“Yeah, well, not that smart,” he says.

“What makes you think that?”

“You haven't met Mike.”

That's the one bad thing about Mike. Trevor can't feel better than him. He can't secretly look down on him like he does with everyone else because the kid is perfect. He has some ridiculous memory that has a name that he doesn't care to remember and he knows what he wants to do with his life. He's hot and, sure, maybe the girls don't seem to have seen it yet because he always has his face in some book but Trevor just knows he's going to realise his potential and leave him in the dust.

Trevor doesn't want to go to college. He could and that's fine but it's not like he wants some sixty hour work week. He wants to find some way around that and make enough money to do whatever he wants, which probably wont be that much.

He doesn't see the point in making money if you have no time to spend it. He barely manages to keep himself happy as it is.

“You can't compare yourself to other people, Trevor, that's no way to think.”

“Why not? Comparisons are how we measure things.”

“You're not going to get better if you think of everything like that.”

Trevor has to bite the inside of his lip to stop himself from shouting. He doesn't want her to write more invisible words in the pad of mystery.

“I don't need to get better,” he says. “I'm fine.”

There's a pause and there's something in Dr. Mitchell's eyes that makes him look away.

“Do you really believe that?”

He thinks it might be pity. Or concern. Whatever it is, he hates it, because he does believe it. He is who he is. He doesn't have an illness you can pin down. He has a fucked up outlook on life but there's no cure for that. He has a stockpile of pills that could kill a large family because nobody even noticed that he stopped taking them.

“Yeah,” he says. “I'm a bit messed up but that's just me.”

The next question is something he doesn't quite know how to answer.

“Why do you think you're here?” she asks.

“What, like, what's the meaning of life?” he asks with a smirk. “Because I think you'll find if you word the question properly, your answer is forty two.”

Dr Mitchell rolls her eyes, like she always does. Sometimes, when he makes a joke, he sees the little twitch of a smile on her face, but she makes a point to never laugh. She tells him that hiding behind humour isn't constructive, especially not in a therapeutic setting and that relying on other people laughing as a form of attention is only going to make him worse.

“Trevor, answer the question,” she says.

“Fine, I don't know. Because my parents think you can stop me failing school or because my brain is a little hectic,” he says. “It's no big deal.”

He knows the therapy isn't strictly mandatory but he can't quite bring himself to stop going. It's stupid and if anyone found out he'd probably kill them and then himself but Dr. Mitchell listens to him and it's kind of nice. That and he kind of hates the way he occasionally falls into a black pit of nothingness that he feels like he'll never be able to crawl out of. He'll never admit it but Trevor secretly hopes that, one day, he'll walk through the door and she'll fix him and he'll be normal and happy.

Except he doesn't want to be normal. He doesn't want to be one of them.

“Trevor, mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of,” she says.

“Are you saying I'm officially crazy?” he asks, focusing on his laces.

“No, you know you don't even have to come here,” Dr. Mitchell says. “You just have a few issues that you could work through.”

Trevor gets out of class every second Thursday to see Dr. Mitchell. He knows everyone assumes he cuts and it doesn't take Mike long to ask where he goes. He knows Mike wants to cut with him and he's excited by the prospect but he doesn't want to drag him down. He knows school is effortless for him but still, he knows how easy it is to suddenly get disinterested.

So he tells him something a little closer to the truth.

“I'm not as bad as everyone thinks I am,” he tells him at lunch. “I just have to get blood tests done a lot and it's better to get out of class, too.”

Mike's eyes go wide and he looks worried.

“Are you ill?” he asks. “You're not... dying or anything are you, man?”

Trevor grins and shakes his head.

“Nah, nothing like that. I'm just on medication that needs to be monitored. I'm fine.”

Of course, it doesn't take Mike long to work out that he's lying. He asks questions, lots of questions, because that's what Mike does. Trevor should have seen it coming. Any time Mike learns about anything, he ends up reading about it. Either he accidentally gets sidetracked on Wikipedia, or he gets a book out of the library... anything to quench his thirst for knowledge.

Trevor manages to shrug of the questions for a few days but then Mike gets suspicious. They go back to Trevor's after school and he reaches for the pot and Mike stops him.

“Are you really supposed to be smoking that?” he asks.

He looks concerned and Trevor hates that. He really hates that because, yeah, it's nice that someone cares but the idea that he's causing a problem for Mike makes him feel sick.

He wants to just shrug and curl into himself and plaster on the grin that's becoming more natural every day but he knows Mike wont leave it.

“Yeah, sure, it doesn't mess with my meds,” he says.

_Because I'm not taking my meds because the pot is so much better._

“You sure?” Mike asks. “Because anything that you need to get checked every other week must be pretty serious...”

Trevor sighs. He knows he has to come up with another lie but he can't think of anything believable that it would have made sense to try to cover up.

“Okay, okay,” he says. “God, I'm not on medication and it's a different sort of doctor.”

There's silence and Trevor wants to get up and walk away or, even better, for Mike to walk away but neither of those things happen, so he lights the joint instead.

Mike frowns at him but then he looks like he might have got it.

“Really?” he asks. “Like a therapist?”

Trevor shrugs and just takes a deep pull, feeling the smoke coil inside of him. If he acts like it's no big deal then it isn't and Mike can't tell him otherwise. A torrent of words fall out of Mike's mouth and Trevor barely listens. He asks Trevor why he didn't tell him before and there are words like _trust_ and _fine_ and _secret_ and then Trevor passes him the joint just to shut him up.

“It's no big deal, I didn't want people making assumptions,” Trevor says.

Mike exhales and then shakes his head.

“I saw a few, you know, after my parents.”

His voice goes quiet at the end and there's a thick tension that makes Trevor's stomach ache. He looks at Mike and then the joint is forgotten. They kiss and touch and pull at clothing, anything to avoid talking and it's perfect.

Trevor stops seeing Dr. Mitchell a month later. He doesn't miss it. He still feels like shit some of the time but he's learned to just get used to it. According to a lot of the posters around school, self loathing is a natural part of childhood.

He never tells Mike about his medication and his mom stops filling the prescription. Sometimes he takes two or three of the old pills because they're not as good as pot but they make him feel like he's floating if he swallows them with vodka and that's kind of great.

When Mike gets his first girlfriend, Trevor takes five and gets scared when he feels his stomach twisting and his head spinning. He wakes up on his bedroom floor with a bloody nose and vows never to take them again.

He doesn't stop until the bottle is gone and the withdrawal is so bad he spends a hundred bucks on pot just to get through it.

By senior year, he's just scraping through his classes but he's enjoying himself. He spends his free time with Mike or playing video games and he doesn't give a shit about his future. He can get a crappy job and keep his lifestyle up and if, one day, he decides he hates it, he can do something about it then.

Except Mike really wants him to go to college, so they can go together and be room mates and he begs him. He looks at Trevor like he's ruined all of their hard laid plans and Trevor almost wants to try for the first time in his life.

“Don't you think it would be fun?” Mike asks.

“Yeah, of course, but there's not much I can do now.”

“ Come on, Trev... you're smart. I can help and you can pull through and then you can come to college with me and play beer pong and sit through all your classes stoned or whatever.”

Trevor has to admit that it sounds good and he can't bear the thought of losing Mike. He nods and just agrees with everything he has to say, even though he knows there's no hope.

Somehow, he manages to graduate with decent grades and they move into their dorms, high on excitement and new sights and, later, three joints.

They laze around on their new beds, jumping between the two and falling together, a writhing mess of limbs.

Trevor slides off the bed and Mike freezes when he yanks his jeans down. He slips Mike's hard cock into his mouth and it's a first. They'd always just made out and dry humped and, once, both jerked off next to each other. It just feels like what he should do, though and Mike's fingers twist in his hair as he groans.

Mike doesn't hesitate to reciprocate and there's a buzz in Trevor's head for the rest of the night.

They never talk about it and Trevor doesn't really want to. They still spend a lot of their time scoping out girls together (never men, although Trevor knows that Mike isn't the only guy he's attracted to) and they still pursue them. Trevor dreads the day Mike brings a girl home but he doesn't say anything about it.

They're friends and they get high and help each other out, but that's all they are. Trevor doesn't think about it because he can't. He can't let himself think about how Mike is the only person he can stand for long periods of time, the only person he wants to touch and kiss and fuck...

Trevor doesn't realise how much time he spends alone until he lives with someone else. Mike is great, he's his best friend but sometimes Trevor snaps. He needs time to think, even if he hates being alone with his thoughts. They fight and Mike can hit hard even if he doesn't look like it.

They always make up, though. They're inseparable and one time, a girl mistakes them for a couple. Trevor doesn't correct her.

He comes home in their second week and he's so fucking high he could just die. He tries to open the door quietly but it flies open.

Mike just looks at him and Trevor waltzes in, there's no other word for it. He jumps onto his bed and Mike stares at him.

“What the fuck dude?” he asks.

Trevor doesn't answer him, he jumps up again instead because he doesn't want to stay still.

“You look messed up, have you been drinking?”

Trevor shakes his head because one beer doesn't count as drinking.

“Fucking mushrooms, man...”

Mike's eyes widen but Trevor doesn't see what the big deal is. It's not like he took anything hard, just something to make everything brighter and perfect and, yeah, maybe he shouldn't have smoked too, but he had a joint in his pocket and he was curious.

Mike pushes him onto the bed and forces him to stay still. Trevor doesn't complain; Mike's face looks so colourful, with blue eyes brighter than any he's ever seen and his lips are so...

“Your lips... so fucking pink, god,” he breathes and he pulls Mike down onto him.

Their kiss is hard, biting and it stings. Mike is angry and he's shaking his head but Trevor isn't even that fucked up. He's been worse, when he had his meds still but Mike never saw that. He doesn't know how Trevor just never wants to come down, how he wants to be flying and untouchable and in a world outside of every stupid little fear.

“What the fuck, Trevor?” Mike asks. “You said you'd never do anything more than pot!”

He had, that first time, when Mike had been worried about smoking because it was illegal and Trevor had had to convince him that it was no big deal. That was just so long ago and Mike is overreacting and it's stupid and annoying.

Trevor kicks Mike off of the bed; he's suddenly not in the mood. He's going to be coming down soon enough and he doesn't need Mike fucking with his head.

Things move in a blur after that. When Trevor looks back on it, the year will be squashed together, not that he'll look back on it unless he has to.

He tries to make some money. It's quick and easy. Mostly foolproof. Except he's a fucking fool and he tries to sell a stolen test to the Dean's daughter. It's possibly the worst thing he's ever done and he doesn't know how Mike will ever forgive him when they both get kicked out.

He does, though. He isn't angry, he's disappointed and it hurts more than Trevor would have ever thought. They move in together, a shitty apartment without room for beds, so they both sleep on mattresses on the floor. Mike gets a job as a bike messenger, but Trevor must have finally corrupted his perfect best friend, because he starts taking tests for money.

They get high a lot and Trevor loses days at a time. He cleans up a little and Mike seems proud, until he finds out that he's only clean so he can deal.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he practically screams. “Do you want to go to jail?!”

Trevor just laughs because what else can he do?

“It's no big deal, it's just a little pot and some college kids,” Trevor says. “It's not like I'm supplying the whole campus.”

Mike just ignores it, skates over the issue, because he isn't exactly above board, either. They make out less and Trevor tries not to think about it.

They try, they really do. Trevor tries to be happy, because he's sure that he was. He hates that he's dragged Mike down but he's glad that he still has him.

Then there's Jenny.

She's sunshine and she looks like Mike when she smiles in the right way. They both like her, but Mike goes for her friend instead. Sort of.

Trevor doesn't mean for it to become so serious, but she's intoxicating and the sex is great. He starts staying with her more and seeing Mike less because it stops his heart from aching. They still hang out, but he can fool himself into thinking they're just friends most of the time.

The worst part is the way Jenny and Mike look at each other. There's heat there and Trevor hates it. Mike likes his girlfriend and his girlfriend likes his best friend. He could just disappear and they'd be happy and sometimes he wants to but the idea of nobody needing him or wanting him is the worst. If he thinks about it for too long, he feels the pull of the darkest corners of his mind, so he masks it all with sarcasm and comedy.

Of course, just as he feels like he's getting his head above water, everything goes to shit. Mike needs money and Trevor wants to help him. He tries but maybe he goes about it in the wrong way. Maybe he should have learned his lesson with the Dean's daughter, but instead, he offers Mike a job.

He lets him take a briefcase full of pot. He lets him walk right into a trap and he feels sick to his stomach.

That's the moment he loses his best friend.

Not straight away, because there are moments, but it's never the same again.

He gets a job in some fucking law firm and he abandons them. He doesn't let Trevor apologise and he knows his worst fear has come true. Mike realised he could have more than him. Mike left him behind.

Jenny tells him that he should be happy for him, that he should be glad that Mike has made something of himself but he can't be.

He loses himself in sex and drugs and it takes a week for Jenny to pull him out of it. If he was still seeing Dr. Mitchell, he's sure she'd say that Jenny is good for him, just like she had about Mike so many years before.

She is, in a way. She helps. She tries to change him but it isn't as bad as it sounds. She tries to help him, she tries to make him happy and it works. In a way.

There's a hollow feeling in his gut but that's always been there, only fading away for stolen moments.

So Trevor tries to stay happy. He remembers that he still has Jenny and he does love her. She's all he has and she's so brilliant, how could he do anything but love her?

As long as she doesn't leave him, too, he'll be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to admit that this is based on my own feelings about life and, loosely, my teenage years, because I feel like it would fit. I'm really hoping it seems realistic and not too out of character.


End file.
